The carriage car baked in the unrelenting Sun, pulled along by too-thin donkeys and their too-cruel whipmaster. Skeletal carrion eagles picked at the dry carcasses along the camino, all victims of the yearslong drought that had stricken the Yucatán. My carriage companion, the Lord Fray Diego de Landa, scarcely looked out to the passing landscape. He remained quiet, no doubt considering the gravity of our mission. A week before our departure, the Lord Fray had received word of a frightening discovery in the advocación of Sotuta. Two bodies in a shallow grave. Two children. Juan Nachi Cocom, Maya Chief Principal of the province, had written to the Lord Fray asking for a Holy Inquest into the matter. Rather than send a written response, the Lord Fray immediately engaged a carriage.
We arrived at the gates of the Sotuta Monastery on our fourth day of travel and were greeted by Fray Brusselas who kissed the Lord Fray’s hand in practiced reverence and welcomed us on behalf of Fray Pedro de Rodrigo, Abbot of the house. Over the past decade several monasteries had been established across the peninsula, some even in permanent stone structures, but here in Sotuta the monastery was only partially constructed and a flurry of activity around the worksite kept a cloud of dust in the air.
“Work of any sort is slow around here,” explained Brusselas. “Even after we pulled all the indios from their huts in the woods and moved them to town. At first they kept returning to their overgrown plots, but we smashed their beehives and ripped out their fruit trees so now they stayed put. They have nowhere else to go!” Brusselas laughed but the Lord Fray did not so much as smile. Brusselas quelled his laughter then added seriously, “But even with every man and woman working there still aren’t enough hands to get everything done. We’ve already put all the children to work as soon as they can walk, but it’s no replacement for an able-bodied man. Perhaps the Lord Fray could put in a word with the crown? We could use more Castilian men. And women.”
“My concern here is not construction schedules,” replied the Lord Fray. “I am here for one purpose: the Holy Inquest into the discovery of two dead children. Please notify Chief Principal Juan Nachi Cocom of my arrival.”
“But sir,” said Brusselas, “That inquest has already been completed. Juan Nachi Cocom was found guilty.”
~
“This episcopal inquisition is hereby called to order,” I declared, silencing the half dozen Franciscan friars in the audience. “Under the authority and guidance of Lord Fray Diego de Landa, first Provincial of the Order of Monasteries of the Lord Saint Francis and Apostolic Judge of the Holy Office by bulls of His Holiness Pius Quartus, conceded and secured at the request of His Majesty Philip the Second.” Lord Fray de Landa took his seat, flanked to his right by Castilian nobleman Tómas Avila and to his left by Juan Diego Xiu, a bejeweled Maya official crowned with red and green feathers. I unfurled my scroll, dipped my quill, and prepared to write every word spoken during the inquest.
“Brothers,” said Abbot Fray Pedro de Rodrigo before the tribunal, “I have in my possession sworn testimony from dozens of indios here in Sotuta of a pagan conspiracy led by one Juan Nachi Cocom.” The Lord Fray shifted in his seat and Fray Pedro took notice, “Perhaps your Lordship is familiar with the man?”
“Indeed,” replied Lord Fray de Landa, “His family had long ruled these lands. I myself baptized Nachi Cocom and bestowed upon him the name of Juan.”
“Then it is with a heavy heart I inform the Lord Fray that Juan Nachi Cocom has broken his baptismal vows and for years been engaged in the same ritual heresy that plagued this land before our arrival. Idolatry. Blood magic. Even human sacrifice.”
“These are grave accusations,” said the Lord Fray.
Fray Pedro tossed a stack of vellum sheets on my desk, tipping my well and spilling ink across my transcript.
“Read the confessions for yourself. Roberto Canché, the indio constable of Sotuta, testified that last spring he witnessed Juan Nachi Cocom, drunk on balché honey mead, perform a ritual human sacrifice of four young boys to their supposed rain god inside the very church which our brotherhood had constructed just one year prior. The youths were each placed on wooden crosses, their hands and feet nailed, and an outlawed obsidian blade was used to slice open their chests. Then Cocom reached inside the open wound and yanked the still-beating heart out of the young child’s body. He anointed the snouts of their idol statues with the blood then took the dead youths to a hidden lake inside a cave and hurled their corpses into the waters. Martin Ba, a tradesman here in Sotuta, confessed to nailing three women to a cross under the direction of Chief Governor Lorenzo Cocom, beating them with thorny nopal paddles before cutting out their hearts and hurling the bodies into a cave lake. Juan Cocom testified to helping supply four children to his cousins Nachi and Lorenzo for the purpose of drowning them in a cave lake. Fransisca Uicab witnessed two men sacrificed and her husband was tasked with carrying the bodies to the ruins of an old temple and disposing of them inside a cave lake.”
While my right hand deftly transcribed every word spoken by Fray Pedro, my left hand flipped through the confessions – all written in the same elegant longhand but often signed with a crude X.
“Tomás Ak testified that at one ritual he saw Nachi Cocom fling a living woman into the waters of a cave lake, weighed down by a stone tied to her ankles so that she might courier a message to their so-called rain god. Luís Ku confessed to attending at least four sacrifices in which men had their hearts excised. Octavio Caxcan even told us of a ritual where a man was skinned alive! His flesh peeled carefully from a single incision along the spine to ensure it came off in one piece which was then worn by Nachi Cocom as he danced for their idol statues.” A chill ran down my spine at the thought of such horrific sights.
“These are quite dramatic stories you tell,” interrupted the Lord Fray, “and you do tell them well, but have you any evidence of these crimes beyond testimony?”
Fray Pedro called towards the hallway, “Miguel Ángel!” The doors of the chamber opened and a barefoot Maya boy shuffled inside. Fray Pedro took the boy’s soft face in his hands and ordered him gently, “Have the idols brought inside.” The boy hurried out then returned with two strong Maya men hoisting a crate full of carved statuettes. “Over eighty pagan idols,” said Fray Pedro, “Each brought to us by the admitted heathens as evidence of their crimes.”
The Lord Fray took one of the idols from atop the pile and held it up to the light. It was a grotesque human-like head with large teeth set in a kind of a perpetual grin – or was it a scowl? – carved from polished jade that glowed a vivid green. “I wish to speak with Juan Nachi Cocom,” ordered the Lord Fray, “have him brought before this inquest at once.”
No one moved.
“My apologies, your lordship,” said Fray Pedro, “but Juan Nachi Cocom is dead.”
“Dead?” asked the Lord Fray in shock.
“Judas’ fate, I am afraid. A fortnight ago, before he could be questioned. The weight of his sins must have been too much for his weak soul and he chose the noose rather than the eternal forgiveness of the True Dios.”
“Then bring me his brother Lorenzo!”
“My apologies again, but Governor Cocom passed away last night. He was bitten by a snake and fell ill, though it is possible the snake venom was also a self-inflicted act.”
Lord Fray de Landa’s face hardened into what seemed to me like cold suspicion. “Secretary notary Villagomez,” he said, “read me the name of any admitted pagan among those confessions.”
I quickly shuffled through the sheets past many signed Xs until I came across a signature. “Martin Ba,” I said.
For the first time Fray Pedro seemed to be at a loss for words. “Well, sir, I am not quite sure–”
Chief Principal Juan Diego Xiu interjected, “Martin Ba was stricken with a fever and passed away last week.”
I read another signature, “Luis Ku.”
“Missing since his confession,” reported Juan Diego Xiu.
The Lord Fray grew impatient and slammed the jade idol onto the table. “Who brought this idol?” he demanded.
“I believe that was Francisco Uicab, the former schoolmaster,” said Fray Pedro.
“Don’t tell me he’s dead too,” quipped the Lord Fray.
“Not at all,” said Juan Diego Xiu with a smile.
~
“This episcopal inquisition is returned to order,” I declared. The room was now crowded with several Castilian noblemen and through the narrow windows I could even see a few Maya men sneaking glances of the proceedings.
“Francisco Uicab is called to come forward,” I announced in the most commanding voice I could muster. The doors opened and a hunched man with one shoulder wrenched upwards in a jagged hump hobbled inside. “State your name,” I ordered the wretched figure.
“Francisco Uicab, former schoolmaster of Sotuta Academy,” he responded with downcast eyes.
“Do you profess there is only one True God?” I asked, “That we are brought to his grace only through his son Jesus Christ, who will be watching your testimony today?” Francisco nodded meekly.
Lord Fray de Landa began his examination: “My child, we have here a confession of yours made to my brother Fray Pedro de Rodrigo in which you state you helped dispose of four adult bodies into a cave lake after a ritual human sacrifice. Is this true?”
Frasisco nodded.
“Speak up, child!” ordered the Lord Fray, “Is this true?”
“Yes,” stuttered Francisco.
“How many men and women?” asked Lord Fray de Landa, “Three men, one woman? Two men, two women? One man, three women?”
“Yes, one man and three women,” agreed Francisco nervously.
The Lord Fray turned his attention to me, “Secretary Villagomez, read Francisco Uicab’s confession.”
I read from Francisco’s confession, “It was at that time I hurled the bodies of two children into the cenote.”
“Two children, not four adults,” reiterated Lord Fray de Landa. “So then these three women and one man, was that a different sacrifice you wish to confess?”
Francisco looked up in fear. “No! There was no other sacrifice! Forgive me, lord, I have never been much for counting.”
“This feeble man is clearly overwhelmed,” interjected Fray Pedro, “perhaps he should be excused–”
“Secretary Villagomez, pull a fresh sheet” commanded the Lord Fray. I pulled a blank sheet of vellum and dipped my quill. “I, Fray Diego de Landa, first Provincial of Sotuta, hereby grant absolute clemency to Francisco Uicab for any crimes committed, and hereby declare him absolved of all sins to which he will presently confess.” The Lord Fray walked over to my desk, took the sheet, and held it up for Francisco to see. “Do you understand what that is?” he asked. Francisco nodded. “It is yours…” promised the Lord Fray, “once you tell me the truth,”
“It is as I said, your lordship,” replied Francisco. “There were two children. No more.”
The Lord Fray shrugged then began to rip apart the pardon.
“Wait!” screamed Francisco, “I… I never helped with any sacrifice.”
A ripple of nervous excitement ran through the men inside the crowded room.
“Did you ever see Juan Nachi Cocom perform a sacrifice?” asked the Lord Fray.
“He slaughtered a pig once at my cousin’s wedding,” replied Francisco and a few men in the room laughed.
“Why did you tell Fray Pedro de Rodrigo that you disposed of two bodies in a cave lake?” asked the Lord Fray.
“Have you ever been hoisted up on a garrucha, sir? No, I can’t imagine you have. I had already been incarcerated for days with a dozen other Cocom men. Very little water. A few tortillas to share between us. When I was finally pulled for my questioning, Fray Pedro had my wrists bound behind my back then hoisted me up. My shoulders twisted backwards as I was pulled higher and higher. I still remember the crunching sound. Then the hard snap when the bone… That’s how I got this hump. The hands took longer. Not until Fray Pedro ordered the weights tied to my ankles.” Franscisco raised his hands to show they were both permanently twisted into mangled hooks. “By then I would have confessed to anything.”
“Your lordship, I object,” yelled Fray Pedro, “The garrucha is perfectly in keeping with Spanish law! This man confessed before God!”
“And now he confesses before us,” replied the Lord Fray before turning his attention back to Francisco who now raised his chin proudly.
“I made it all up, your lordship,” said Francisco. “Mostly what I could remember from the old stories my grandfather would tell. Stories from his childhood about the Itzas and the festivals at Mayapan.”
“And what of this idol?” Lord Fray de Landa set the jade idol onto the table in front of him and this time a ripple of nervous excitement could be heard running through the crowd of men outside the room. “You claimed it was used in a sacrifice. Was that a lie?”
“I suppose it was, your lordship,” replied Francisco. He avoided looking at the statuette, seemingly afraid to make eye contact with the horrific thing. “When Fray Pedro ordered me hoisted down I assumed that was the end of my ordeal… then the friar commanded I bring him evidence of my confession. But how can you provide evidence of a lie? He ordered me to bring him an idol, but I had none! No one in Sotuta did! They were all destroyed when we converted. I am a Christian man! You must believe me!”
“Where did the idol come from?” asked the Lord Fray.
“There used to be a city some twenty-five leagues away,” said Francisco in a grave tone. “My grandfather spoke of it. A place that was already old and abandoned by the time he was born. He told stories of a cenote, a cave lake, under its temple. Sacrifices were performed at the cenote in those days, back when the Xiu and the Cocom lived in distant milpas. There were many years of war then. It’s said it was a violent katun. It’s said a great drought lasted many harvests and the Xiu nation sought help from Lord Chac of the Rains by sinking a youth to the depths of the cenote with a message. It is said the Rain God would send his reply back with the drowned soul who would swim to the surface, reborn, but never the same. Legend says that Chief Xiu and his men were granted safe passage through Cocom territory to the old temple to conduct the sacrifice, but the Cocoms had set a trap and…” Francisco looked to Juan Diego Xiu who gave a slight nod, encouraging the frightened man to go on. “After the Xiu flung their messenger into the waters, the Cocoms sprang their trap and killed them all. When the messenger rose back out of the water reborn he found no one to greet him. And so he is cursed to wander the earth searching for someone to hear his message. My grandfather would say that on quiet nights, if you listened carefully, you could hear the sound of wet footsteps as he wandered the night, looking for someone to hear his message.”
Fray Pedro scoffed at the fantastical tale. Francisco forced a smile, “Foolish stories, I know, but we reasoned that if there were any idols left to be found they would be there under the old temple.”
“We?” inquired the Lord Fray.
“My brother Ignacio Uicab. He was also interrogated by the friars, only he hadn’t been given the garrucha. He’d been strapped to a wooden burro and the friars poured water down his throat until he was nearly drowned. Then they untied him and stomped on his distended belly till he gurgled water like a hotspring.”
Fray Pedro rose to his feet with indignance, “Absurd! We have no confession record of any so-called Ignacio!” The Lord Fray waved him down and Francisco became even more emboldened.
“That’s because he didn’t confess,” said Francisco, “He wasn’t asked anything. His stomach had been left black and blue and he was in no condition to even be standing, but with my hands like this… I would need someone else to grab the idols if I was fortunate enough to find any. We moved slowly together, it took us all day to trek through the woods. The forest had grown so densely that we didn’t even recognize the old temple until we were upon its stones. Have you ever been out to the old cities, sir? No, I can’t imagine you have. The Itzás made temples the size of mountains where people would gather by the thousands to dance in great festivals. Of course, that was then. Now it was a ruin. We found an entrance had already been made behind the staircase, probably by grave robbers who had the same intentions as us. The halls inside were dark and narrow. Ignacio spraked a torch and held it aloft as we squeezed through the passageways, but smoke quickly filled the small space robbing us of breath until the flame snuffed itself out and left us drowning in darkness. I admit I was frightened. I was terrified. I had never before seen so much darkness until finally the passage opened up to the lake, dimly lit by starlight through a circular opening at the roof of the cave. The clear waters descended into another total darkness. No one knows how deep those lakes go…”
Francisco went quiet, as if lost in his own recollection, but the Lord Fray called him back to attention, “And the idol? Is this where you found it?”
“The cave was empty,” replied Francisco in an evermore distant tone. “We were devastated. Ignacio wept, but I prayed with all my strength to–” Francisco caught himself, “to the One True Dios. It was then that the moon crested into view of the opening in the roof and shone a ray of light directly into the cenote waters. There we saw it glimmer. The jade head. Just under the water’s surface, resting on the edge of a rock a few spans down. I was so excited I would have grabbed it myself, but Ignacio dove in without hesitation. He grabbed the idol then swam back to the surface and handed it to me. We laughed. We were so grateful for our blessings. Then…”
His voice caught in his throat, but he forced himself to continue.
“I saw… something… swim up from the depths of the lake. It moved quickly and grabbed Ignacio. I couldn’t help. What could I do? He was pulled under before I could do anything!”
“What do you mean he was pulled under?” asked the Lord Fray.
“On top of heresy, he confesses to fratricide!” accused Fray Pedro.
“I loved my brother!” declared Francisco.
“What was it that pulled him below?” demanded the Lord Fray.
“I don’t know,” responded Francisco, “Maybe the tzucan.”
The Lord Fray looked to Juan Diego Xiu for an explanation.
“An old legend, your honor,” explained Juan Diego Xiu. “A serpent that lives in the rivers connecting the lakes. It is said the creature guards the entrance to the inframundo, the land of the dead.”
Fray Pedro sprang to his feet and pointed at Francisco accusingly, “Still this man maintains his heresies! He is beyond salvation!”
“Heretic!” called the other Franciscans.
The Lord Fray banged the jade idol on the table, bringing the room to order.
“I only meant it as a joke, your holiness,” pleaded Francisco, once again keeping his eyes downcast.
“Nevermind legends,” said the Lord Fray, “what did you do after your brother was pulled…” he thought better of his words, “After he went under the water?” I made sure to write only his corrected statement in the record.
“I am ashamed to say I ran,” replied Francisco, still looking at the floor. “I had what I came for, why sacrifice one more life? I arrived back in Sotuta just after highsun and came directly to the monastery with the idol.”
The Lord Fray leaned back in his seat, looked Francisco over, then looked to his left and right but neither Don Avila nor Chief Principal Xiu said a word. “This man’s testimony shall be taken into consideration,” said the Lord Fray, “the accused is dismissed.”
“And my pardon, your lordship?” asked Francisco.
“As I recall,” said the Lord Fray, “your pardon was conditional upon your telling the truth, isn’t that correct Secretary Villagomez?” I referred to the transcript and confirmed that was indeed the condition. “Very well then,” continued the Lord Fray, “once your testimony has been verified as truthful your pardon shall be granted. Until then your conviction stands.”
~
I was summoned to see the Lord Fray in his bedchamber that evening and found him sitting in a plush imported armchair, holding the jade idol in his hands, gazing into its eyes. “I have asked you here to discuss the inquest,” he informed me.
“Is there something wrong with my transcription, your lordship?” I asked. “I apologize if I overlooked any–”
“The transcription is perfectly acceptable. It is your opinion I want.”
“Opinion, sir?”
“About the testimonies,” he clarified, “The indio, for instance. Did you find him to be credible?”
I was stunned – not only because the Lord Fray deemed me worthy enough to confide such doubts, but because I too was harboring doubts. “Well, sir,” I said nervously, “since you ask, there were some things that did not quite make sense.”
“The lake serpent?” The Lord Fray laughed, “The indios are a superstitious lot, aren’t they?”
“I suppose so, sir,” I responded politely then forced myself to add, “But I meant the arithmetic. Do you recall when we first arrived in Sotuta, how Fray Brusselas gave us a tour of the new construction? How he boasted that he’d put every man, woman, and child to work and still there weren’t enough hands? I examined all the signed confessions and they often describe multiple people being sacrificed. Three, four, sometimes six, seven, eight people at a time. There are dozens of sacrifices listed in these confessions. And when a summation is drawn… well, sir, if these testimonies are to be believed then I calculate there have been nearly one-hundred and eighty people sacrificed in Sotuta alone over the past two years.”
“So then Fray Pedro is correct,” concluded the Lord Fray, “the indios have indeed returned to their old ways,”.
“Perhaps, but then why was this not noticed until now? It’s certainly possible the indios colluded to keep silent, but what of the brotherhood? What of Fray Brusselas? Wouldn’t he have noticed missing laborers? Can so many people vanish without it coming to the attention of any Castilian in Sotuta?”
Lord Fray de Landa sent word for Juan Diego Xiu who soon joined us in the bedchamber. “Francisco Uicab is not to be trusted,” declared the Chief Principal. “If he is telling the truth now, he lied then. And if he told the truth then, he is a liar now. In either instance, he cannot be trusted. The man is a known drunkard and a sloth.”
“And a schoolmaster,” reminded the Lord Fray.
“A testament to the difficulties we have had finding workers for the True Lord,” said Juan Diego Xiu.
“I would imagine,” said the Lord Fray, “particularly since by our estimation there have been nearly two hundred people sacrificed here over the past two years.” I noticed the Chief Principal glance in my direction. “I wonder,” continued the Lord Fray, “why it wasn’t until only recently that the absence of so many workers went unnoticed.”
“The Cocoms held great influence in these lands,” said Juan Diego, “perhaps they coerced others to keep silent.”
“Are you accusing the holy men of this monastery of being part of some pagan conspiracy?”
“I said no such thing!”
“Then what are you saying?” demanded the Lord Fray, “If the good men of this monastery did not notice scores of vanished souls, then what? Are the men of this monastery fools?”
The Chief Principal took a breath and composed himself. He could see what the Lord Fray was up to, but there was much he could do as well. “There was one truth in the schoolmaster’s words,” he said, “the legend of the Xiu sacrifice during the great drought. My ancestors did indeed seek to appease Chac with a sacrifice at the sacred cenote and they were indeed betrayed by the Cocoms. My great-grandfather, being no more than an infant, was the only member of the family who had been left behind and so survived. The Cocoms, you see, were after vengeance because they too had legends. Legends that told of how many winters before, their own ruler had been assassinated by the Xiu. That’s how it is with legends. None of these men were present for any of those betrayals, but they are sure those betrayals happened and they exact a price in return. Old legends become present action. Do you understand? Have you ever bothered to understand us? Our nations were at war long before you came across the sea. Our borders were carved generations ago with blood. You Castilians set fire to those borders. I can’t be blamed for seizing an opportunity.”
A realization washed over the Lord Fray, “The indios who were accused of idolatry were all from the Cocom clan, weren’t they?”
Juan Diego smiled, “A coincidence, I’m sure. Tell me, your lordship, did your inquest ever get to the bottom of the case of those two dead children?”
The Lord Fray, suddenly recalling Juan Nachi Cocom’s letter, seemed embarrassed to realize he had forgotten all about them. “The inquest dealt with this matter,” he stammered.
“Did it?” asked Juan Diego, “Forgive me, your lordship, but does your secretary have anywhere in his transcripts the identity of those children?”
The Lord Fray turned to me but I could only shake my head.
“Had I been called to testify,” continued Juan Diego, “I would have told the inquest they were two lovely girls of six and eight summers from here in Sotuta. I would have told the inquest they were often hired out as domestic servants. I would have told the inquest that the last time both girls were seen alive was on their way to work at this very monastery. As personal servants to Abbot Fray Pedro de Rodrigo. But I’ve not been called to testify.”
“Meritless accusations can cost you your head,” said the Lord Fray.
“Meritless accusations won me back my family’s position,” said Juan Diego. “Someday we will win back this land then you and your inquests will be a legend and nothing more.”
A heavy silence hung in the warm evening air after Juan Diego departed until finally the Lord Fray picked up the jade idol and gazed at its horrific face. “Secretary Villagomez,” he said, “did you accurately transcribe our conversation?”
“Every word, sir.”
I took the transcript to the Lord Fray. He gave it a cursory examination then held the paper over the lit candles and the paper caught fire. I gasped then quickly controlled myself when I noticed the Lord Fray watching my reaction.
“You should rest,” he said, “there will be much to do at the inquest tomorrow.”
~
Landa Fray de Landa took his seat between Tómas Avila and Juan Diego Xiu, who betrayed no indication of the confession he had made the night before. “Brothers, I shall be candid,” announced the Lord Fray, “There is a devil loose in these lands. The testimonies presented before this inquest have proven undeniably that paganism has returned to Yucatán under the guidance of the Cocom clan.” Fray Pedro and his retinue murmured in approval, and even Juan Diego pursed his lips in the slightest of smiles. But I did not share their joy, a knot had built in my stomach and it tightened with every word I transcribed.
“But it has also become clear that the Cocoms did not act alone,” continued the Lord Fray, “A devil works through every indio in these wretched provinces.” A smattering of applause from Fray Pedro and his brethren, but Juan Diego now looked nervous.
“This inquisition is far from over, brothers. Send notice to every province: all pagan idols are to be smashed, all native books are to be burned, all able-bodied indio men and women are to be interrogated thoroughly – beginning with Chief Principal Juan Diego Xiu.”
It took several brothers to subdue Juan Diego. The Lord Fray continued to speak and I continued to write, but I can’t seem to recall much of what came next. The interrogations started immediately and I was set to transcribing what few words could be heard between screams. Nearly two dozen people were flogged, stretched, hoisted, and put to the rack before I was ordered finished for the evening after my vision had blurred and my writing became a mess.
But now as I stumble exhausted towards my bedchamber through the halls of the monastery, I can’t help but look over my shoulder.
I tell myself it is only a trick of my mind.
A symptom of my lack of sleep.
A result of exhaustion.
But I am certain that in the quiet night, if I listen carefully, I can hear the sound of Ignacio Uicab’s wet footsteps following me with a message.
Erik Sandoval is a first-generation Mexican/American writer from Oxnard, CA crafting cross-cultural stories that draw on his experiences growing up in an immigrant family. He is an expert in Mesoamerican cultures & mythology and holds a degree in Latin American History from the University of Southern California. Most recently, he has written for several seasons of the acclaimed AMC horror anthology series “Creepshow.”